sword for the good of the rest of us; just make sure that sword isn’t the Kitten.”
He smiled down at his half sister, who was staring pensively at the sword in question.
Agony and futility as sharp as needles stabbed at Drusilla’s heart. Was he so blind that he thought the Kitten might actually like—or love—him for who he was? Or maybe he didn’t care about such things? Perhaps his only requirement when it came to a mate was a pretty face?
He eyed Drusilla with amused speculation, as if she’d just spoken out loud. “And what is your opinion, Miss Clare—because I know you will have one.”
“Please, fall on whatever sword you wish.”
He laughed with obvious delight.
But the thought of Gabriel Marlington married to the Kitten made Drusilla want to fall on a real sword. It also made her want to slap the smug look off his perfect features.
Instead of doing either, she used the only weapon left to her: her wit.
“You seem terribly confident that your unsavory antics won’t sour Miss Kittridge’s parents’ eagerness for you and your suit, Mr. Marlington.”
He turned to Drusilla, arrested. “How flattered I am that you take such an interest in my, er, suit, Miss Clare. And my antics.”
She flicked a nonexistent piece of lint from the puffed sleeve of her pale blue gown. “Not interest, sir, merely an objective observation.”
“Ah, I see. But tell me, Miss Clare, just what unsavory antics have you heard about?”
A wave of heat began to make its journey up her neck. She compressed her lips, as if that could somehow stop the tide. “I can only imagine.”
“Can you? I’m all agog to hear the fascinating fruits of your active imagination.”
Drusilla narrowed her eyes in what she hoped was a condescending and repressive fashion and gave him a deceptively sweet smile. “I hardly need to cudgel my brain to invent antics for you, do I, Mr. Marlington? Not when you are so good at providing all of us with real examples.Your notoriety is legend and tales of your behavior—or should I say misbehavior—abound, many of them as entertaining as an evening at the . . . theater.” There, let him chew on that.
But if she had hoped to discompose or embarrass him with a veiled reference to his notorious liaisons, he disappointed her. Instead he gave her a smile of genuine delight
“Ah, Miss Clare, I never imagined you to be the type of woman to pay any mind to scurrilous gossip.”
Drusilla widened her eyes in mock wonder. “Oh? Please, do tell, Mr. Marlington,” she said, echoing his earlier words. “I’m all agog to hear the type of woman you imagine me to be.”
He leaned toward her and said in a voice so low that only she could hear, “My imaginings are not the type of thing I can discuss in public.”
Drusilla took a hasty step back and bumped into a passing dandy, the impact enough to send her sprawling.
Gabriel’s response was quick and unobtrusive as he set a light hand beneath her elbow to steady her, giving the other man a dismissive nod before releasing her arm.
“The heat in here is quite oppressive, is it not?” He was looking at her with something suspiciously like concern.
She ignored her palpitating heart and his question, eager to move the subject away from herself and back to him.
“We were speaking of your recent trip to Newmarket, I believe,” she said. “It has been disappointingly quiet thus far, but it is still early days, Mr. Marlington. Tell me, what stories can we expect? Reckless wagers? Impromptu mills? Duels? Orgies?”
He grinned in a way that made her wish she could take back her words. Or at least that last one.
“Orgies?” he repeated.
Her face became impossibly hotter.
“You do have an active imagination, Miss Clare. I should dearly love to hear your thoughts on orgies. Not to mention how I fit in with such speculations about orgies.”
“Quit saying orgy,” she hissed.
“You started it.”
“You sound like a twelve-year-old, Mr. Marlington.”
His lids lowered and heat burned through her body, the conflagration hottest between her tightly clenched thighs. “Orgy,” he whispered.
Eva’s laughter broke the terrifying trance. “You two! Always funning one another.”
Drusilla and Gabriel turned to stare at Eva in amazement. How was it that she failed to recognize the hostility that characterized the relationship between her best friend and brother?
But Eva was gazing across at the beguiling debutante, oblivious to their astonished expressions. “It looks like you aren’t the only one chasing the Kitten, Gabe.”
Lord Visel had approached Miss